The Conviction in the Family
by Sloane Ranger
Summary: Brennan learns the implications of belonging to a family of convicted felons when her brother asks her to find out how an acquaintance died. Booth, and the others, help her.
1. Chapter 1

I've just found Bones and have bought the DVD's for Seasons 1 – 6. I love this show and the interactions between the characters. I don't know why I didn't catch it before!

Having watched 6 seasons over a period of about a week I found I had a few plot ideas running round my head. This one just wouldn't go away. I have two stories on the go already but I found I couldn't concentrate on them, so I thought if I wrote this plot down I would be able to get back to work on my other stories. Here is the result. Unfortunately it turned into a multi chapter story as most of mine tend to do.

This is my first Bones fic. I think it is probably set sometime in the 5th or early in the 6th season when Bones' relationship with her father appears easier and more settled.

The usual disclaimer that I don't own anything related to the programme apples.

Please let me know what you think.

**The Conviction in the Family**

**Duchess County, Virginia**

Sheriff Todd Jamieson strode through the abandoned barn. It seemed to have been used as an unofficial dump site by at least half the County. He made a mental note that he needed to do something to prevent this in the future. The place was a health hazard, even without the recent addition. He came to a halt and glanced towards the badly decomposed body. Judging from the suit and tie it had been a male and from what little exposed skin had escaped the scavengers, he guessed that the guy had been African American. The folks in the County were a close knit community and no-one had been reported missing, so the likelihood was the corpse belonged to an outsider.

"So, Doc, what you got?" He asked the County's part-time Medical Examiner.

Doctor Edwin Smollett looked up from where he was crouched among the split garbage bags leaking their contents across the packed earth floor. His face was wrinkled in distaste at the smell sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh and vegetation. He was a paediatrician who had taken over the M.E. job only recently and, up to now, the few call outs he had attended had involved grieving relatives discovering that a loved one had unexpectedly passed away during the night.

"From the degree of decomposition I'd say this guy's been dead for at least five days, maybe a week. It's been real hot recently and that would have sped up the process. As you can see, the local wildlife has also had a field day. That doesn't give me much to work with as far as cause of death is concerned but I found a coupla bags containing an off white, rock like substance on him. Amos has them."

Sheriff Jamieson turned to Deputy Amos Vinson, who passed him an evidence bag.

"I guess we'll have to have it analysed to be sure but it looks like crack to me, Sheriff."

Jamieson nodded. Unfortunately, the drug plague was no longer confined to the big cities and even County cops like Amos and he were familiar with the appearance of the most common narcotics.

Deputy Vinson continued. "We also found this clutched in his right hand." He handed the Sheriff another evidence bag containing a short pipe. "Seems to confirm that the guy was tweaking."

"Any identification on the body?" Sheriff Jamieson asked.

Vinson nodded. "We found his wallet. It had $50, credit cards and a driver's licence in the name of Taylor Munro in it. Licence gives an address in Richmond." He handed over a further evidence bag. The licence had been taken out of the wallet and could be seen through the clear plastic. The photograph showed an African American man who looked to be in his sixties. This rang a warning bell in Jamieson's head. Crack smokers rarely made it to anything like an advanced age. Then he looked more closely at the name and photograph and the warning bells receded into the distance.

"Taylor Munro. Isn't he that ex-con agitator trying to over-turn the State's ban on felons' voting?"

"Yeah. He was here 'bout a week back, giving a speech at the Zion Community Church, trying to stir things up."

Jamieson turned back to Doctor Smollett. "Any obvious signs of violence, you can see there, Doc?" When the M.E. shook his head he turned back to his Deputy. "Well, the time line fits. Looks to me like he fell back on his old habits, stopped off here on his way back home for a smoke, O.D'd. and died out here like an animal." He shook his head, sadly. "That's why ex cons can't be trusted with the vote. They don't have the good judgement to use it responsibly."

* * *

**Royal Diner, Washington, D.C.**

Brennan, Booth and Sweets had finished their lunch and were lingering over their drinks, discussing the case they had closed the night before.

"Tempe!"

The three of them turned towards the speaker. There were only two people in the world who called Dr Temperance Brennan by this diminutive.

"Russ!" Brennan rose and hugged her brother. "What are you doing in D.C.? Why didn't you call to say you were coming?"

Russ ignored the questions. He indicated his companion, a conservatively dressed, white haired, African American woman who looked to be in her early sixties. "This is a…friend of mine, Mrs. Arlene Munro. Mrs Munro, this is my sister, Doctor Temperance Brennan. F.B.I. Special Agent Seeley Booth and Doctor Lance Sweets. He also works for the F.B.I." He gestured to Mrs Munro to take the spare seat next to his sister and pulled up a free chair to sit at the end of the table.

"I'm sorry I didn't call Tempe. It happened so fast I didn't have time. I phoned the Jeffersonian when we arrived and Angela said you were here so we came on directly." He glanced towards Booth. "It's all legit." He said, defensively. "I got standing permission from my P.O. to leave the jurisdiction for up to three nights. She gave it me when Amy's Mom was ill and we had to go to Florida at short notice several times. You want to see?"

Booth shook his head and held out his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "No, that's OK, Russ."

Russ turned back to his sister. "Tempe, I need to ask you a favour…"

Brennan's face lit up. "You want to use the spare room in my apartment while you're here!" She began fishing around in her purse for the keys. "There's beer in the fridge and you'll find fresh linen in the cupboard by the bathroom. How about I call Dad and we have a family reunion tonight?"

Russ shook his head, firmly. "No, thanks. I'd love to come over tonight and spend time with you and Dad but Mrs Munro and I are staying with some friends of hers who run a community outreach project in the Highlands."

Brennan frowned. "That is a very insalubrious part of town, Russ. Full of drug addicts and convicted felons."

Her brother shrugged. "I should feel right at home then."

Brennan reached over to touch her brother's hand. "You're not a drug addict." She said seriously. "And when you finish your parole your debt to society will be paid and you will be able to start your life anew as a responsible, law abiding citizen."

Russ withdrew his hand and took a deep breath. "That's not true, Tempe. Do you know the number of civil disabilities I will face for the rest of my life, no matter how law abiding I am? Every State has a long list of occupations convicted felons can't join and some States prevent us from voting for the rest of our lives."

Sweets nodded. "That's true, although only a handful of States permanently prevent felons from voting nowadays."

Brennan frowned. "Well that seems logical. Convicted criminals have demonstrated a lack of judgement and social responsibility that is inconsistent with the qualifications required of an elector. It seems reasonable that they should demonstrate their rehabilitation over a period of time before the right to vote is returned."

Mrs Munro was staring at Brennan shocked by her apparent insensitivity but Russ, knowing his sister, did not take offense. "OK, Tempe but did you know that back home in North Carolina, I will automatically get back the right to vote as soon as my parole ends but, if we have to move to Florida to be closer to Amy's parents, I will never get back the vote unless I can get a full pardon? If, however, we moved here, to D.C., I could vote right now. Where's the logic in that?"

"It does seem inconsistent." His sister agreed.

"Did you know that in some States I could lose the kids due to my felony conviction? Or in others I wouldn't be allowed to work as a motor mechanic?" Russ warmed to his theme.

"OK, OK, we get the point." Booth interrupted. "I'm guessing this favour you want from Bones is related to all this."

Russ nodded. "Yeah. Have you heard of an organisation called Con-TRACT? Amy and I joined a few months ago."

Brennan and Booth shook their heads but Sweets answered. "Yes. It campaigns on behalf of ex-cons, am I right?"

Mrs Munro answered. "You are, Doctor Sweets. It started in California in the nineteen eighties and has since gone national. Full membership is only open to ex-felons and their families but other supporters can join as Associates."

Now that their attention was on her, both Booth and Sweets noted her expression, a mixture of grief and determination.

She went on. "My husband, Taylor Munro was the President of the Virginia Chapter. He got into trouble when he was young, used drugs and stole to support his habit. When he was in prison the last time he found the Lord, studied, and joined the Ministry. That was in 1984. He's been clean and law abiding ever since, working with other ex-offenders and at-risk youth. He became our President two years ago. He was found dead nearly a month back in an abandoned barn in Richmond County, where he'd been to give a talk at a local church. According to the Inquest, he had been smoking crack and overdosed."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs Munro." Brennan said. "But, as I'm sure you know, statistics show that there is a high probability of addicts returning to their addictive behaviour, even after a period of abstinence."

Mrs Munro shook her head. "Not, Taylor." She said, firmly. "He'd been clean for nearly thirty years. After the Lord touched him, he never wanted to do drugs again. I understand from your brother, that you're an atheist, Dr Brennan so I don't expect you to believe that. If I tell you that he never touched crack even when he was using, would that convince you?"

"So, what do you want from us?" Booth prompted, gently.

"The Governor is working on an Executive Order which will give back the vote to thousands of ex felons living in Virginia. Taylor was a member of his Advisory Committee. There are plenty of people…powerful people who oppose this." She took a deep breath. "I believe my husband was murdered by those people and the reputation he'd built for himself is being dragged through the mud in order to stop the Governor issuing the Order." She dived into her purse and brought out a folded newspaper, spreading it out so the others could see the headlines.

"**Gubernatorial Advisor in Crack Overdose"**

"**Death threatens Plan to Restore Voting Rights to Felons."**

"I'm sorry for your loss too, Mrs Munro but if the local Coroner is satisfied that your husband died from a drug overdose, I'm afraid there's nothing the F.B.I. can do." Booth said.

The dignified elderly lady nodded. "Russ tells me you are a good guy but you're a cop. I don't expect you to help. You don't have any jurisdiction for one thing. That's why I called Russ and asked him to come introduce me to Dr Brennan. I want to ask her if she will examine my husband's body to prove he was murdered."

"Tempe, please." Russ implored. "This is important."

Brennan frowned. "I don't set out to prove anything." She said. "I follow the evidence. I would need to have your husband's cadaver in order to do what you ask."

"That won't be a problem. It was released back to me for burial after the Inquest. You can either come to Richmond or I can arrange to have it shipped here." Seeing that the forensic anthropologist was wavering, she dived back into her copious purse and brought out a folder. "This is the official record of the Inquest. It contains a copy of the autopsy performed by the County M.E. Read it, talk to Russ, sleep on it." Her control slipped and her agony at her loss showed in the raw emotion of her tone. "Please don't let everything my husband worked for, his memory, be ruined!"

* * *

**Jeffersonian Institution, Next morning**

Booth walked in to see Brennan frowning over the thin file before her.

He grinned at his partner. "Hi, Bones, so how did the family reunion go last night?"

The Forensic Anthropologist looked up. "It was very illuminating. I had not realised the number and extent of the legal disabilities facing convicted felons. Some are logical and sensible but others seem to have no rationale at all."

Booth leaned forward and put his hands on her desk. "So, you're going to take the case?" He asked.

"I am considering it." Brennan replied. "But I told Russ that I would speak to you first. You are my partner and I would not take this case if it would interfere with my work for the F.B.I."

Booth shrugged. "I don't see why it should. We have nothing on at the moment and our arrangement with the Jeffersonian doesn't prevent you doing other work." He grinned. "It's good you're supporting your brother, even if it turns out that Mr Munro did OD."

"I told Russ and Dad that my decision would not be affected by their status as convicted felons but by the facts of the case itself and they accepted that."

Booth tried to imagine Max's and Russ' expressions when they heard this and hid another grin. "So, what did your Dad say when he heard that Russ had joined this organisation?"

"He said he didn't see the point of voting as the government always got in." Brennan replied. A slight smile crossed her face, gone almost before it had appeared. "I think he was joking."

Booth felt his heart lurch at the expression that had lit up his partner's face, just for that moment. _Professional, _he reminded himself, _I must remain professional._

"So," He asked, hurriedly. "What is it 'bout this case that makes you want to take it?"

"Firstly, Mrs Munro states that her husband has not used drugs for thirty years. Russ told me that he has met Mr Munro several times and he confirmed that the deceased did not show any sign of drug use. While it is true that, statistically, addicts return to their addiction, the evidence is that this is less likely the longer they are abstinent. It is also true that some addicts never return to their addiction. You are a case in point."

Booth sighed. Sometimes he thought he knew how Max and Russ must feel. "And secondly?" He asked.

Brennan picked up the file and handed it to him. "This is the autopsy report. It is clearly incomplete and inadequate. I have checked the credentials of the Medical Examiner who conducted it and he is a paediatrician by specialism." Her face softened. "Everyone deserves to know the full truth of how their loved one died and Mrs Munro is no exception."

Although Booth could think of situations where, in his opinion, it was kinder for loved ones NOT to know, he did not respond.

"Go for it Bones." Was all he said.

T.B.C.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, especially the reviewers. **Skye, luvthembones, eire76 and McRose. **If you have any feedback, please let me know,

Just to, perhaps, reassure anyone who hasn't asked, Hannah does not appear and nor does any other emotional interest for either of our heroes. Apart from that, however, the story will be canonical so, hopefully, while there will be displays of Booth and Bones mutual attraction at appropriate moments, this will not be consummated.

There is some pathology talk in this chapter and a one use of a word used to describe a woman engaged in the sex trade but nothing I don't remember hearing on the programme.

Hope you enjoy.

**The Conviction in the Family**

**Chapter 2**

**Jeffersonian Institution, Several Days later.**

The team stood on the platform awaiting the arrival of the body.

"Attention please." Dr Brennan called. "As you know, this is not an official case. Mr Nigel-Murray is my grad student and has a duty to assist me but I cannot require anyone else to become involved. If you would rather not, please leave now."

"It is always an honour to assist you, Dr Brennan, even if it were not a requirement of my internship." Mr Nigel-Murray said, obsequiously.

The other four people remained on the platform.

"Brown-noser." Dr Jack Hodgins muttered to the Englishman. Then, to Brennan. "Hey, possible conspiracy here! No way I'm backing out!"

Angela Montenegro smiled at her best friend. "I think it's good what you're doing for your brother, sweetie, even if you don't want to admit it. I'm in."

All eyes turned to Dr Camille Saroyan, who shrugged. "I read the autopsy report. I'm embarrassed for my profession. I'm staying."

Brennan looked at the group. "Thank you." She said.

The door to the Lab opened and two attendants wheeled in a sealed container. Following them were three people, Mrs Munro, Russ Brennan and, surprisingly, Max Keenan. As the attendants began transferring the container to the examination platform, Mrs Munro produced a sheaf of documents.

"Here are the papers you required Dr Brennan. They authorise you to perform whatever tests or procedures you judge necessary to establish cause of death. As you requested, Tay…Tayl…" Her voice choked with emotion. She re-gained control with an effort. "My husband's remains have been kept frozen and transported in an air tight container." She looked round. "Where can I wait while you…do what you do?"

The team looked at each other in concern. The tests and procedures they would be required to perform were not ones a grieving wife should witness.

Picking up on the tension, Russ and his father exchanged glances behind Mrs Munro's back.

"It could be hours, even days, before they have anything to tell us, Mrs Munro." Russ said hurriedly. "And if we stay, we'd only be in Tempe and her people's way."

Max dialled the Keenan charm up to full volume. He smiled dazzlingly at the elderly African American lady. "It would be better if you let these fine people get on with what you've asked them to do. I'll tell you what, on the way over you said you'd never had the time to do the D.C. tourist trail. Why don't I show you the sights? You gotta see Capitol Hill, the White House and the Mall while you're here. If they find anything while we're out, Tempe's got Russ and my cell numbers and she can phone."

Mrs Munro hesitated and argued but she eventually allowed herself to be escorted out by the two men. As they left, father and son turned to look at Brennan.

"Thanks, Tempe." Russ mouthed.

Max simply nodded, his expression unreadable.

As they disappeared the team gave a collective sigh of relief.

"OK, let's get this show on the road!" Cam said, gesturing for Hodgins and Mr Nigel-Murray to open the container.

* * *

**J. Edgar Hoover Building, **

Seeley Booth was unenthusiastically sifting through a pile of reports when a human battle-ship in full sail entered his office.

"So, what have the Brennan criminal element got the good Doctor involved in now?" Caroline Julian asked.

Booth looked up. "What makes you think they've got her involved in anything?" He asked, cautiously.

Caroline put her hands on her hips as she glared down at the F.B.I. agent. "Because I've just got off the phone with some guy from the Virginia Attorney General's office who was fit to be hog tied. He accused the Government of interferin' in State matters and having the corpse of some ex-con shipped to the Jeffersonian. I told him that it was nothing to do with us and what Dr Brennan does when she's not on our dime is entirely her own affair." She paused. "I hope you're not goin' to make a liar out of me."

Booth leaned back. "Bones is doing a favour for her brother. A guy he knows died and the family aren't satisfied with the Inquest verdict, so he asked her if she could do her thing."

Caroline's eyes were searching. "Hum. This guy, does he have a name?"

Booth told her.

"How did Russ Brennan get involved in _that_ can of worms?" She asked, then held up her hand to stop the F.B.I. Agent from answering. "I don't want to know. But I don't want any surprises. I hate surprises. So, let me know how things develop, cherie." She turned and left the office.

Booth stared after her, then picked up his cell and hit speed dial. "Bones, Caroline was just here and…"

* * *

**Jeffersonian Institution**

The body had been removed from its container and was lying on the examination table. Only Cam, Mr Nigel-Murray and Brennan remained on the platform. Angela had taken one look at the remains and disappeared, announcing they should let her know when her skills were required. She had been followed, shortly afterwards, by Hodgins, once he had ascertained that the body had been washed and there were no obvious particulates for him to examine.

"O.K." Cam said. "Let's see what we can find out from a visual examination while we're waiting for him to de-frost." All three leaned over and studied the remains. "At least the M.E. remembered how to make a "Y" incision"." She said, grudgingly, before adding, for the record. "Body is an African-American male who has been identified from documentation on his person and dental records as Taylor Munro, aged sixty-seven."

She paused and looked towards Brennan. "I assume you will want us to confirm identity through DNA, Dr Brennan?" She asked.

Brennan nodded. "Yes. Also, once the skull is de-fleshed, I would like Angela to do a facial reconstruction."

Cam nodded and continued. "The body demonstrates significant decomposition with loss of tissue well advanced. When discovered, the body was clothed, which has, to some extent, protected the legs and abdomen from scavengers. The flesh on the exposed areas of the neck, face, wrist and hands, however, has been stripped off and the skeletal structure exposed."

"I wonder why the Virginia A.G's office is so worried they phoned Caroline Julian?" She asked.

"Perhaps they are concerned we will expose the incompetence of their Medical Examiner." Brennan replied.

"And open the State or the County to a civil suit? Maybe." Cam did not sound convinced.

Mr Nigel-Murray looked up from where he was studying the exposed anterior of the skull. "Did you know that the largest ever civil settlement in U.S. history was for $206 billion paid out by the tobacco industry?" He asked.

"That is interesting, Mr Nigel-Murray." Cam replied, dryly. "But probably not relevant as the deceased medical records show no evidence that he suffered from cancer or any other smoking related disease."

As they were speaking Brennan had been studying the bones on the wrist and hands. She looked up. "Mr Nigel-Murray, please examine these." She asked.

The British intern did as requested. After a time he looked up. "No breaks or fractures." He reported. They show signs of osteoporosis but that would be consistent with his age."

"Compare the bones on each hand and wrist." Brennan ordered.

Mr Nigel-Murray obeyed. "I would have to physically examine them to be certain." He finally said. "But, based on observable differences in bone mass, I would say that this man was left handed."

Brennan nodded. "I agree."

"As are about 10 to 12 per cent of the population." Cam observed. "How is that relevant?"

"According to the Inquest, when he was found he was holding a crack pipe in his right hand." Brennan responded.

Cam stared at her. "And people favour their dominant hand. O.K." She finally said. "That by itself doesn't prove anything but it certainly raises some questions."

"I will tell Booth." Brennan said. "He asked to be kept informed." She frowned. "Given this new fact, do you think he would be interested in accompanying my father and I to a public meeting Con-TRACT is holding in Virginia this evening? Russ has been asked to speak and we were planning on going to support him."

"I suggest you ask him." Cam said. She looked back at the body. "Meet back here in three hours?" She asked. "Mr Munro should be sufficiently soft for us to begin the physical exam by then."

Brennan nodded her agreement.

* * *

**That Evening **

Booth's SUV pulled up outside Brennan's apartment building. Brennan automatically climbed into the front, leaving her father to get in the back.

The rear of the vehicle was already occupied. "Ur, hi, Doc." Max said to Sweets, who shifted over to let him enter. "I didn't know you were coming to the party."

"He was in my office when Bones called and invited himself along." Booth grunted as he smoothly pulled away from the kerb.

"I thought it would be cool to study the group dynamics." Sweets said, without embarrassment. "

"So, anything new since we spoke?" Booth asked his partner.

She shook her head. "Nothing substantive. Cam has completed the autopsy. She found no signs of violence or evidence of drug use in the remaining flesh and tissue. She has removed the oesophagus for closer examination and taken tissue samples for analysis. A number of insect eggs and larvae remained in the abdomen and Dr Hodgins is in the process of identifying them. I released the flesh eating beetles just before we left so the bones will be de-fleshed and ready for examination tomorrow."

"Well, this is a morbid conversation." Max intervened from the back seat. "Can't we talk about something else?"

"OK." Sweets said. "Let's talk about you. Why are you here? Everything in your psychological profile says you don't give a damn about the social stigma associated with being a felon."

"This would be the same profile where you made me out to be a sociopath, Doc?" Max asked, in mock anger. He flashed a grin. "This is important to Russ. If he believes getting involved with these people is the right thing to do as a husband and father, I gotta respect his decision and support him."

"Yeah, how did he get involved with them and what does his P.O. think?" Booth asked.

Brennan replied. "There was a special election for a member of the School Board. One of the candidates was a Creationist. Russ wanted to vote for her main opponent, then found out he couldn't because he was on parole. He said that his Parole Officer supports him. She thinks community involvement is an aid to rehabilitation."

Sweets nodded. "There is research supporting that." He agreed. "Has Russ ever spoken in public before?" He added.

"No." Brennan said.

"Yes." Max said at the same time. "Sort of." He added.

Brennan twisted round to look questioningly at her father.

"He was the Innkeeper in the Christmas play when he was in 2nd Grade, honey." He explained. "He had two lines."

"OK." Booth said after a pause. "I'm going with Bones on that one."

"It's probably not going to be a big deal." Max added. "I expect the four of us are going to double the audience and he'll be preaching to the choir anyway."

The meeting was to be held in a church hall just over the border from D.C. and the remainder of the journey was taken up with Booth, Max and Sweets explaining to Brennan that Russ would not, literally, be preaching to the choir.

Booth pulled the car up outside the hall and the four of them exited the vehicle.

Max turned to Booth. "Well, thank you for a much more pleasant journey than the last time I rode in the back of your car."

"Booth says that he has transported six prisoners in comfort there." His daughter responded.

"Comfort is a comparative term, Tempe." Max replied.

"Hey, I warned you when I was about to turn a corner. I don't do that for everybody!" Booth protested. He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes before the meeting's due to start. Let's go in. I hope they've got coffee. I could really go for a cup right now!" Booth rubbed his hands and led the party inside the building.

The hall was shabby with space for about 150 chairs, all of which had been set out. Max's prediction that they would double the audience proved to be inaccurate, but not by much. There were perhaps twenty people scattered through the hall, plus a handful of people standing on the platform, including Mrs Munro, Russ and a man in a clerical collar, presumably the pastor. Seeing the group arrive, Mrs Munro left the platform and hurried towards them. Booth noticed that a refreshment area had been provided but restrained himself from seeking it out. The widow would obviously ask about progress and he wanted to ensure that Bones did not give the sort of graphic update she had shared with him in the car.

"Russ is lookin' a little nervous. I think I'll just go speak to him." Max said, disappearing.

Booth spared a glance towards Bones' brother. He did, indeed look like a rabbit in headlights.

"Thank you for coming, Dr Brennan." Mrs Munro said when she reached them. "And you too, Agent Booth, Dr Sweets. Although unexpected, you're both very welcome." She paused, her expression hopeful. "Is there anything you can tell me yet?"

Booth and Sweets tensed, but, to their relief, Brennan just shook her head and told the elderly lady that their examination and tests were continuing.

Mrs Munro closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her face was set in determination. "Well, thank you, once again." She waved towards the refreshments. "Please, help yourself. The meeting will be starting shortly. I must see to some last minute things."

Brennan, Booth and Sweets grabbed plastic cups and filled them from the urn, then took seats at the back of the hall. They were soon joined by Max. All three noted that Russ looked a little calmer after his talk with his father.

As Max slipped into the seat next to his daughter he ran an experienced con man's eye across the room. "It's easy to see why they wanted Russ for this gig." He observed.

"I don't understand." Brennan said.

Sweets answered. "Look at the people here, Dr Brennan. They're predominantly white and blue collar. As such, they are more likely to identify and empathise with Russ. He's someone like themselves, a guy who works with his hands; who's trying to provide for his family."

Brennan frowned. "This is a major public policy issue. People should consider the advantages and disadvantages of any proposal using an empirical, evidence based approach."

Booth chuckled. "You may be able to do that Bones, but most people; they decide things based on their feelings."

Brennan looked towards Sweets and her father. They both nodded agreement with Booth's assessment.

"That is so irrational!" She said.

Max spoke again. "I wonder why the cop's here?" He asked.

Booth leaned across Bones and said. "Hey, Max. Don't you know it's rude to talk about people when they can hear you? And you must be getting' know why I'm here."

"Not you, Agent Booth, the other cop." He flicked his eyes across the aisle to a man who was sitting alone.

All eyes turned to look at the man identified. He looked to be in his late thirties with close cropped hair. His shirt looked freshly ironed and he was almost sitting to attention in his seat.

"You're sure he's a cop?" Sweets asked.

Max nodded. "Trust me on it."

Booth did not doubt Max's assessment. Career criminals developed an instinct for identifying law enforcement officers. He shrugged. "It's a public meeting so there's no reason why he can't be here."

At that moment the Pastor came to the microphone. He welcomed everyone to the meeting, introduced the platform party, then turned the meeting over to Mrs Munro, who began by quickly covering the historical context of felon voting laws, current practise, the changes proposed by the State Governor and then spent more time setting out how she thought these would benefit society, the political process and convicted felons.

"This is boring." Booth hissed to Sweets.

"This is just the warm up, Agent Booth. It won't last much longer." The psychologist replied. "Look at the audience. Judging from their body language most are already members or supporters of Con-TRACT, but the guy squirming in his seat? He's angry. I'm guessing he's a crime victim. And the woman who's trying to make herself as small as possible? She feels she's in enemy territory and fears for her safety. Mrs Munro knows that the only real hope of getting people like them to change their minds is if she can show them that felons aren't as scary or dangerous or evil as they think they are. That's where Russ come's in."

As he was speaking, the door at the back of the hall opened and four men strode down the aisle, the reek of whisky following them like a miasma. They grabbed seats about halfway down.

Booth tensed. "This is not good." He hissed.

He and the others were on tenterhooks as Mrs Munro finally came to the end of her presentation and introduced Russ.

He began by explaining that he was on parole and why. At first he was halting but he gained in confidence as he talked about his work as a motor mechanic and his family. He was talking about his hopes and aspirations for Emma and Hayley when the man who had been squirming in his seat earlier interrupted.

"Look, I'm sorry your kid's ill but did you think that other kids could have been injured or even killed when you sold one of your chop shop cars to some poor working stiff?"

Russ shook his head. "No. I didn't think. But since having my own family I understand how dangerous what I did was."

One of the drunks stood up. "Yeah? And what sort of woman gets involved with an ex-con and let's him raise her kids? Some welfare queen or a whore, that's who!"

"And I bet they're raising those kids to become the same kind of lowlife parasites they are!" Another of the drunks chimed in.

Booth looked at Russ' expression. He had always though him the least potentially violent of all the Brennan family, including Bones, now he wasn't so sure. He looked like he was holding on to his temper by only the thinnest of threads and frankly, Booth did not blame him.

"Insult me all you want, but lay off my wife and kids." He finally gritted out.

The four men guffawed derisively, while the rest of the audience began to show their unrest. Mrs Munro and the Pastor were on their feet calling for order. Booth looked towards the cop but he remained glued to his seat.

One of the other drunks rose and looked, contemptuously, round the room. "You're the dregs of society." He announced loudly. "I don't think any of you scum should ever have been released to mix with decent people. One strike and you're out!"

"Naw, then they'd only be sitting in prison getting fat on our tax dollars while watchin' plasma T.V.'s and having conjugal visits!" the last drunk said. "They should all be sterilized so they don't spawn more of their kind to rob and rape and murder us! Bad seed always begets bad seed!"

The room was in an uproar, the continuing calls from Mrs Munro and the pastor were drowned out the shouts and yells of the others in the room.

Booth looked round. Sweets' face said that he would rather be almost anywhere than where he was, Bones was looking at the drunks, her expression had that closed in look it always had when she was becoming hyper rational to protect herself from emotional pain. More immediately worrying was Max. The bank robber and legally not a killer was staring at the four drunks. His lips were pressed together in a thin gash and his eyes were cold.

Booth leaned in close to him. "Don't do anything here to make me have to arrest you." He hissed in the older man's ear.

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything here that would upset Tempe even more than she is already, Agent Booth." He said calmly.

Booth noted the form of words. It was not the absolute assurance he had been seeking but he was prevented from following up on the statement as his partner had begun speaking.

"I am Dr Temperance Brennan." Her voice was clear and carrying, used as she was to addressing large lecture theatres. "I am a world renowned forensic anthropologist, a successful author and a consultant to the F.B.I. and several other police agencies. I am also Mr Brennan's sister. As a scientist I must inform you that your understanding of human genetics is totally inaccurate."

.

**T.B.C.**


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first two chapters of this story, especially those who made it a favourite or put a story alert on it. As always special thanks to those who took the time to review, **Jenny1701, McRose and the two Guests.**

Here is the third chapter, which will hopefully resolve some questions and raise others. Please note that the Falawa are a purely fictitious group (I think).

Hope you enjoy. Please let me know either way.

**The Conviction in the Family**

"_I am Dr Temperance Brennan." Her voice was clear and carrying, used as she was to addressing large lecture theatres. "I am a world renowned forensic anthropologist, a successful author and a consultant to the F.B.I. and several other police agencies. I am also Mr Brennan's sister. As a scientist I must inform you that your understanding of human genetics is totally inaccurate."_

**Chapter 3**

The hall fell silent at the unexpected interruption and all heads turned to watch as Brennan began slowly walking up the aisle towards the platform. With a final warning glance towards his partner's felonious father Booth followed her. His head told him that she was one of the last people in the world to need physical protection but his instincts disagreed. And, he rationalised it to himself, there were four people who might be potential threats to her, with others, like the crime victim, being unknown factors. He was just covering his partner's back.

Brennan continued lecturing as she walked. "While sayings like 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree' and 'like father, like son', are common in many cultures, and early anthropological studies, such as that of the Jukes family, purported to show a strong link between heredity and criminal behaviour, such studies have subsequently been discredited. The human genome has now been completely mapped and no gene, or combination of genes, predisposing towards law breaking has been found."

"Indeed," She continued, "As the concept of crime is essentially a social construct, it would be impossible for there to be any genetic link. Among the Falawa people of New Guinea, for instance…"

"Don't talk down to us, bitch!" One of the drunks yelled. "Hoity, toity intellectual crap. I bet you've never done a day's real work in your life!" She was close to him now and he swung at her.

Brennan dodged the blow easily, caught his arm and used his own weight to send him flying on to the floor.

His friends surged forward. Seeing how the situation was deteriorating, much of the rest of the audience began streaming for the exit, leaving as much space between them and the combatants as possible. The handful who remained cleared the area, huddling against the wall as they watched to see how things played out.

Booth glanced over his shoulder at the cop. He was standing now but he made no move to intervene. Not so, Mrs Munro, who, with an athleticism that belied her age, jumped of the platform and ran down the aisle, interposing her body between Brennan and the nearest drunk.

"Please, if we all calm down…" She began before the drunk shoved her out of the way, sending her sprawling into the row of chairs behind her. The drunk moved towards Brennan. He dived into his jacket pocket and brought out a short blackjack. He didn't have time to use it, however, as Booth swung him round and landed an upper cut to his jaw that sent him staggering back.

The preliminaries over, the fight proper began. All four of the drunks seemed to have come prepared for trouble as the two remaining on their feet also brought out blackjacks. Booth grunted with pain as his shoulder was smashed from behind and then felt his arm go limp as he lost all sensation in it. He turned and used his other arm to block the follow up strike. Meanwhile, Brennan was engaging the fourth drunk, her body swaying as she avoided his attempts to make contact with her. Seeing an opening, she darted in with a straight-handed blow just below his breastbone. He doubled over but took her by surprise by using his momentum to head butt her in the stomach. She doubled over in her turn and reeled back a few feet.

Booth continued to try to block the attacks from his opponent. He was at a disadvantage with only one arm in working order. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two drunks, who had been hit earlier had recovered enough to prepare to re-enter the fray. He thought about pulling out his badge or gun but didn't have time. He glanced towards where the cop had been standing but he had disappeared. He heard someone scream in pain close by and turned towards his partner in time to see that one of the drunks had raised his blackjack to strike her while she was recovering. He shouted out a warning. While he had been distracted, his opponent had stepped to his side and aimed a blow at his injured arm. It was too late to block it. Booth prepared to meet the blow, then watched as, out of nowhere, an arm came up holding a blackjack and neatly tapped the thug over the head. He went down like a stone and did not get up again. Booth stared across the fallen man at the familiar figure of Max Keenan.

Max shrugged, then grinned. Together they turned towards Brennan. She had fended off the earlier attack but was now fighting off two opponents. Suddenly Russ appeared. He raised his arm and brought a heavy candlestick down across the shoulders of one of those attacking his sister. The man swore and staggered away bent over in pain. Now that the fight was one to one, Brennan made short work of the remaining fighter, stepping inside his guard to give him two punches which sent him collapsing to the floor. She turned towards her brother who was staring at the candlestick as if he had never seen it before. Without a word, she went over and hugged him.

Booth looked round for the fourth thug and saw him sprawled on the floor. His clothes appeared to be sodden and a dark liquid dripped down his face and hair. Beside him, lying on its side, still leaking the remnants of the evening's refreshments, was the coffee urn. The source of the earlier scream was now explained. Booth did not need to ask what had happened. Hot drinks and their containers had been common weapons in prison assaults for years, until the authorities had wised up and moved to cold drinks in pre-packed cartons. He glanced at Max. The bank robber looked angelic.

The two drunks who were still conscious staggered to their feet. They looked round. Seeing they were now out-numbered, they reeled towards the hall's exit as fast as they could.

"Booth, they're getting away!" Brennan yelled.

The thugs were now near the street door. Given his injured arm, which was now developing pins and needles, the F.B.I. agent did not feel up to chasing them. Max moved forward, a gleeful look in his eye, Booth used his good arm to grab him and stop him. The thought of what Max might do without witnesses present did not bear thinking about. It's OK. Bones." He said, loudly. "We got good eye witness descriptions of them both. They'll be easy to pick up later."

He felt his partner's homicidally inclined father relaxing and released his grip. Nursing his injured arm, he surveyed the scene. Sweets was sitting with Mrs Munro offering her first aid and comfort while the five or six members of the audience who had remained were slowly relaxing now the danger had passed. Sensing Booth's glance, the psychologist looked up and nodded, reassuringly. Satisfied that everything was under control, Booth looked down at the unconscious man near him and brought out his handcuffs. He handed them to Brennan.

"Bones, can you hook this guy up? Max, the other guy had better be alive too." Brennan's father looked insulted as Booth continued, "Russ, are you O.K.?" As the younger man nodded, he added. "See if there's anything we can use to tie the other guy up with."

Brennan was leaning over the still unconscious man when the doors to the hall crashed open and a fully armoured S.W.A.T. team stormed into the building their assault weapons drawn and ready.

"Get down! On the ground! Hit the ground!" They screamed.

Booth watched as all around him quickly obeyed the instruction. Brennan looked like she was going to argue but her father grabbed her and pulled her down with him. She resisted initially but eventually complied after he whispered something to her. There were benefits to being an ex con in these situations, he mused; they knew the drill. He raised his hands, ignoring the discomfort and smiled at the officer nearest him.

"Hey, glad to see you. I'm…"

"On the ground! No talking!" The man screamed at him. His fingers tightened on his weapon. Enough of his face was visible under the helmet for Booth to see his expression and the look in his eyes and those told him that compliance was the best course for now. The misunderstanding could be sorted out later. He slowly got on to his knees and let his body slide to the floor, favouring his uninjured arm. The last thing he saw before his face hit the floorboards was the cop who had been at the meeting earlier walk in behind the S.W.A.T team. He was now wearing body armour. Booth winced as he felt a knee dig into the small of his back and again when he felt his injured arm being drawn behind his back as flexicuffs were applied to his wrists.

"Check my inside jacket pocket." He suggested to the officer.

He was rewarded with an increase in the pressure on his back.

"Shut up, scum bag." The man grunted as he began to roughly search him.

Further off he heard the heavy steps of booted feet and a voice saying. "All suspects have been restrained, Detective. The situation is under control."

"Get I.D.'s and check for parole or probation violations." Another voice, presumably the Detective, answered. "Hell, just being here may be a violation in itself."

The S.W.A.T. officer searching Booth found his gun. He stopped and carefully removed it. "Sir, this one's strapped." He reported.

Booth heard two sets of footsteps approaching him.

"Get him up."

Booth found himself being lifted up bodily until he was upright, facing the S.W.A.T. commander and the cop who had been at the meeting, now revealed as a detective.

The detective looked him up and down, then grinned. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "You're in a whole world of trouble, boy." He drawled. "Unlessen you've got a permit for this here, of course." He displayed the gun.

"I got something better than a permit." Booth replied through gritted teeth. His patience was nearly exhausted. "Look at my inside jacket pocket like I've been asking your officer here. He jerked his head back to indicate the S.W.A.T team member who was still maintaining a firm grip on him.

The Detective gave him a hard stare but his grin faded slightly. "Hold him tight." He ordered, unnecessarily, in Booth's opinion. He couldn't see how the man's grip could be any firmer. "You got anything in there that could stick me?" He asked.

Booth was tempted to say _'Yeah, my badge'_ but desisted. He had decided he did not like this man and wanted to see the look on his face when he saw the F.B.I. identification, so he settled on just shaking his head.

The detective carefully opened Booth's jacket and removed the wallet. He flicked it open and stared at the badge and I.D. card it contained. There was a long silence. Then the man looked closely at the photograph on the card and compared it against the man in front of him. Booth got the definite impression that he was trying to find some discrepancy between the two. This was confirmed when the detective carefully rubbed his finger over the photograph as if hoping he would find the picture had been super-imposed over another. Booth got the impression the man was at a loss on how to deal with this unexpected development.

Finally, the detective said. "It seems the Feds have honoured this little gathering of felons with their presence. Let him go."

Booth tried hard not to make his relief obvious as clippers were applied to his restraints and he could finally move freely again. He rubbed his wrists, where the flexicuffs had bitten into them, pleased that his arm seemed to have recovered. He pointed to Sweets and Brennan. "That man is Dr Lance Sweets, an F.B.I. psychologist and that is Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute, she's a consultant to the F.B.I." Russ was a parolee and there was no way he was going to vouch for Max. They would have to fend for themselves. He was fairly certain nothing would be found on either of them to justify their detention, always providing Russ had been honest with him about having received his P.O.'s agreement to leaving North Carolina and her support for his involvement in this group.

The detective shrugged. "Unhook those two as well." He ordered. "So, what brings the might of the Federal Government to this little corner of our State?"

"I came here in a personal capacity to support my brother who was a speaker at this meeting." Brennan volunteered, coming up to stand beside Booth. She was rubbing her wrists and Booth saw angry red marks where the flexicuffs had been.

"And I'm here to support my partner." Booth nodded to indicate Brennan. He gestured to Sweets, who was now sitting, watching the confrontation. "And he just tagged along."

"Hey, this is a valid research opportunity!" The psychologist protested. He indicated Mrs Munro was lying close by, her hands bound by flexicuffs. "You don't need to do this. This lady and these others are the victims here! You were in the hall when it started. You saw what happened."

The S.W.A.T. commander turned to the detective. "You said the cons were rioting, Carl." He said.

"That's what it looked like to me." The detective responded. "Who you gonna believe? Me, or a coupla Feds? You know they always cover for each other and the woman admits she's the sister of one of these felons, for Christ's sake!"

You don't need to believe anything except the evidence of your own eyes." Sweets said. He drew out his cell phone and tapped it. "I filmed the start of the fight." He walked over and turned his phone towards the two Virginia officers. After a moment, the S.W.A.T. commander turned to his colleague.

"Seems clear from that, that those guys threw the first punch and Dr Brennan was just defending herself." He said. "I don't see anyone other than Dr Brennan and Agent Booth bein' involved in the fight."

"My father brought down that man." Brennan said, pointing towards the damp thug.

Booth could have cursed her for her honesty but Max replied from where he still lay on the floor.

"He was about to assault a Federal Agent. I prevented a felony." He said, self righteously.

The S.W.A.T. commander looked at Booth questioningly. The F.B.I. Agent nodded confirmation.

"Well, that seems to cover that." He turned to his men. "Un-hook the lot of them and call a bus for these two." He gestured to the two thugs, who were still out for the count. "They'll be charged with assault on a LEO. We'll put out an A.P.B. on the two that got away. You, Dr Brennan and Dr Sweets will be called as witnesses."

Booth nodded. "Can you let me know when you've identified them all? I'd like to know who they are and why they came here looking for trouble."

The S.W.A.T. commander shrugged. "Probably just some good ole' boys who's had a skin-full. It happens."

"Hey Phil," Carl, the detective interrupted. "You just goin' to let these convicts go? They're consortin'. That's a violation right there!"

The S.W.A.T commander considered. Booth could see him weighing the options. "We've got I.D.'s." He finally said. "If any of them are parolees or probationers we'll let their P.O.'s know and let them decide." He finally said. He turned towards Mrs Munro, who was now free and standing with the support of Sweets. She appeared to have recovered from the effects of the shove but she now looked her age. "Apologies Ma'am." He turned back to Booth. "I guess you and your party will want to get back home. We'll be in touch."

Booth was desperate for a hot bath and some ointment for his shoulder but something warned him not to leave Mrs Munro and the others alone here. He turned to the rest of the room. "Hey, what I need right now is a mug of hot, strong, Joe. Anyone want to join me?"

The others must have also felt the mood because they flocked forward as one.

"Just give me a minute to re-tie my shoe lace. It got loose in all the excitement." Max replied. He sat down on a nearby chair and bent down, fiddling with his laces.

"Anyone know of a good diner near here?" Booth asked as the group were about to leave. Then just as he had reached the exit and stood waiting for Max to finish, he turned. "Hey, I forgot to ask. You got here quickly. It couldn't have been more that ten minutes between the fight starting and you guys arriving in full gear."

Phil, the S.W.A.T. commander smiled. "We were close by. We got an anonymous tip off the cons were gonna' riot. That's why Detective Pilkington was in attendance. So when he alerted us, we were ready to roll."

Booth nodded. "Shame the tip off got it the wrong way round." He commented. "You ready?" He asked Max, who had finished with his laces and had joined the rest of the group.

The con man nodded and Booth led the group in search of refreshments.

T.B.C.


End file.
